


If the Fates Allow

by Bondopoulos



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, F/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bondopoulos/pseuds/Bondopoulos
Summary: Veronica's cute new neighbor is a total jackass. But what if that jackass turned out to be everything she never knew she always wanted. Needless to say, no LoVe at first sight.Veronica Mars holiday AU, in three acts, set in NYC.Written for VMHQ Holiday Fic Grab Bag Prompt #66 (the parenthesis part): a bunch of carolers show up at LoVe’s door.





	1. December 23

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kmd0107](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmd0107/gifts).



Veronica jumped when a door slammed from out in the hall.

“Well, crap,” she murmured, “he’s home.” Veronica took a deep cleansing breath, deciding not to let her new neighbor bother her. She was one glass of red wine in and wearing her comfiest Lululemon yoga pants and her favorite purple NYU hoodie. Her toes were curled under her and she had a pile of trashy magazines next to her on the couch. It was Friday night of a long weekend—Christmas weekend—and she had nowhere to be in the morning. Nothing could ruin this moment; not even her jackass new neighbor. The fact that she hadn’t had more than a moment’s peace since he’d moved in last week was inconsequential. Tonight was her night; she could feel it. Or so she’d hoped.

Footsteps stalked across the apartment next door that she could hear clearly through the thin walls.

Veronica took another sip of wine and closed her eyes for a moment. She missed little old Ethel, who had lived in 4C ever since Veronica had moved in five years ago. Ethel had been cute, and quiet…she’d baked cookies.

Still, Veronica had been hopeful when she’d heard that a cute new guy was moving in next door, giddy even. A little eye candy would spruce up the old walls of this outdated apartment building. Well, that’s what she’d thought at the time. Now…well, now things had changed. She hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the guy, but he’d already pissed her off more times than she could count.

She waited for the blare of classic rock or some crappy indie, garage band that no one but him had ever even heard of, but it didn’t come.

Veronica turned her head toward her companion. “Wait, Indy, do you hear that?”

The pit bull lying on the other end of the couch opened one eye to look at her but didn’t budge.

“That, my friend, is the sound of silence,” Veronica whispered. Sighing, she sank a little deeper into the couch. “Finally.”

_Simply having a wonderful Christmas time. We’re simply having a wonderful Christmas time._

“No!” Veronica announced, tossing the magazine aside.

_The party's on. The spirits up. We're here tonight. And that's enough._

One thing was right—she sure as hell had had enough.

This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t afford to move.

“Indy,” she huffed, “he’s graduated from shitty rock to Christmas music.” And shitty Christmas music at that. “Ugh!” One didn’t blare music with walls this thin; it was just about common courtesy.

Veronica thought of the long weekend ahead of her. The nice, long quiet weekend she’d planned did not include Paul McCartney.

Veronica popped up to sitting and pulled herself to her feet. She stalked to the door, where she paused for a moment, glancing over at Indy and silently calculating whether or not she’d need backup. Taking a pitbull to yell at one’s neighbor definitely made a statement. The pooch was now sitting up and alert, but he didn’t look eager to follow her. Lazy dog, she thought affectionately. In the spirit of the season, she decided to take a less aggressive approach.

Leaving her door ajar so that she could make a hasty retreat if necessary, Veronica walked purposefully down the hall to 4C. Setting her jaw, she raised her arm and knocked. No answer. Of course he couldn’t hear her over all that racket. She knocked again, harder.

The music silenced, and Veronica wondered if he’d gotten the point without the confrontation. Appeased, she turned to make her way back to her apartment when the door of 4C swung open.

She stopped in her tracks and turned. Expecting to see a tattooed, pierced menace with horns and claws, Veronica was surprised to see warm brown eyes instead. He had a nice body—his shoulders were broad and his maroon henley pulled a little across his muscled chest. Veronica’s heart was beating wildly within her own chest. Wow, he really was cute. Less Devil-like and more…

“Oh, a tiny blonde. I think you’ve got the wrong place…I didn’t order an elf for Christmas, but I suppose I’ll manage to find something to do with you.”

“Elf?” she scoffed.

He waggled his eyebrows and set a hand on his chest. “Maybe the Ghost of Christmas future?”

Sarcasm oozed from his lop-sided, snarky mouth. Suddenly her mission in coming here became all too clear. Looks could be deceiving; she of all people knew that. Veronica opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

“Look if you’re selling something, I’m afraid that—”

Veronica felt her blood boil. The audacity! “It’s past eleven o’clock. What the hell would I be selling?”

His lips smirked again, wider this time. If Veronica didn’t know better, she’d almost think he looked…pleased.

“Not selling anything?” Jackass took a long look up and down her, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. The smirk never faltered. Veronica willed herself not to become self-conscious under his scrutiny. “You can’t be a singing elf with a salacious tune, because…no costume.” He paused for a moment once again, scratching his chin in mock deep thought, and Veronica felt her blood boil. “Well, then I’ll take the bait. What can I do for you this evening?”

“You can turn your music down so that the rest of the building can sleep…or read…or whatever other peaceful activity normal people do in the evening. That’s what you can do for me!” _Jackass_ , she added silently.

His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. “Oh, you’re the neighbor,” he said, tapping the side of his temple as if jogging a memory. “I’ve been warned about you. Perky, blonde private detective with a scary dog.” Jackass put both arms on the molding of the door and leaned toward her. “I didn’t expect you to be so…” he released his arms and wiggled his fingers before him as if searching for a word… “miniature?”

Veronica didn’t ever remember a time when she had hated someone so completely on first sight—or, if she were being truthful, on first hear. And she was from Neptune, California, so that was saying something. She forced herself to rein in her temper.

She didn’t have to like him, but she did have to live next to him. “Yes…well, my size isn’t the issue here. Your noise level is: slamming doors when you come and go, music blaring at all hours. And now Christmas music!”

“Oh, you just hate Christmas! Grinch!” he rejoined. “It’s Christmas Eve! You’re trying to steal my Christmas.”

“It’s Christmas Eve _eve_ ,” she returned crisply.

That brightened him. His eyes widened as though all of the world’s knowledge was now suddenly his. “Fine, it’s the antepenultimate of Christmas!” he announced. “And you’re the Grinch who stole it.”

What did vocabulary have to do with anything? He was infuriating! “And I’m not a Grinch! Some of us would like to choose our own listening material. It’s only polite to respect—”

He poked a finger accusingly at her. “You _are_ the Grinch, here to take my Who-pudding and my roast beast.”

Veronica willed herself not to smile. She refused to be mollified with Dr. Seuss quotes by a (admittedly cute, but that was beside the point) smirking jackass.

“Every party has a pooper—” he began.

“This isn’t a party,” she said, indicating the empty apartment behind him. Oddly clean for a guy who just moved in, she acknowledged, but then shook it out of her head and turned her attention back to him. “This is one asshole every night the one week he’s lived here.”

He just laughed, which made her angrier.

“You’re really not going to turn it down?” she asked, incredulous.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘P’.

Veronica laughed despite herself, a mirthless chuckle that escaped her merely because it was that or punch him in the face, and she didn’t want to spend Christmas weekend in jail—though it was surely quieter than her apartment at the moment.

Veronica clenched her hands into a fist but kept them by her side. “Fine, I’ll speak to Eli, the super, when he comes back after Christmas.”

“Excellent. He’s my family’s housekeeper’s grandson. I’ll text him and tell him to expect your visit. We’re good friends, he and I,” Jackass replied.

 _Fabulous!_ She opened her mouth to speak when he cut her off, yet again.

“Merry Christmas, Grinch,” Jackass singsonged as he stepped backward into his apartment and swung the door shut in her face.

“Same to you,” she called out in her Amber voice. “Now I’m going to go back to my apartment and shut the door like a civilized human being.”

The only response from the other side of the door was the sound of Paul McCartney’s voice, even louder this time.

Veronica walked back to her apartment and shut the door quietly even though Jackass wouldn’t hear it. It was the principal of the thing. Besides she didn’t need to get mad now—no, she’d get even. She’d already begun mentally making a list of ways she could hurt the man next door—without getting arrested—using only her bare hands.

She looked at Indy, still sitting on the couch where she’d left him. “Thanks a lot for the support, pal. Next time I’m getting the yappy chihuahua,” she grumbled at him.


	2. December 25

Veronica was pleasantly surprised to find the apartment next door silent when she returned from taking Indy on his afternoon walk. It had remained silent ever since he'd mercifully turned off his music around one on Friday night/Saturday morning. She'd waited for the music to pump again last night, but it hadn't come. Jackass was home—at least he had been earlier. And yesterday. She knew that because she could hear him through the wall from time to time, but it wasn't the same loud noises as before.

Veronica had thought it was too good to last, but here it was Christmas night…

"Huh, Indy," she said to the dog as she wiped off his paws. "Maybe we will have a silent night after all."

She stepped across the threshold of her apartment and hung the little cloth she used for Indy's feet on a hook and then put the leash with it.

Indy quickly took his customary spot on the couch and looked up at her with sad eyes. She walked over and patted him lightly on the head. "I know, boy, it doesn't feel like Christmas without Dad," she consoled, lightly kissing the top of his large head and then thought about what she should do next.

She'd ordered two game hens from Whole Foods that she'd cooked to perfection, and the sweet potatoes were ready to come out of the oven. It was just like old times. But the food was the only thing she'd done like normal. She just hadn't had it in her to decorate this year; no Padres ornaments gracing the tree…no embarrassment about popsicle stick reindeer that she'd made when she was little. No tree at all.

Veronica made her way into the little galley kitchen and adjusted the temperature of the oven. It was too quiet. She couldn't believe it, but she actually wished there was music on next door so that she could be distracted from her thoughts. She grabbed the TV remote and flipped through channels before landing on While You Were Sleeping. Excellent. A movie with a happy ending is just what she needed right now.

 

* * *

 

Veronica breathed in deeply as she opened the oven and the smell of Christmas cooking came wafting out at full force. It looked good, too. She grabbed a potholder from a nearby drawer and pulled the roasting pan out of the oven and then the potatoes too. It was all crisped to perfection. If there was anything she could cook well, it was Christmas dinner.

Veronica took her time making herself up a plate. She hadn't wanted to set her table for one, so she'd decided that she would eat in front of the TV, and was still debating watching The Year Without Santa Claus. She wanted one nostalgic tradition in place, but she didn't know if she could do it. Veronica was sure she'd cry, but maybe that way she would feel closer to her dad. She still had a few minutes to decide.

She'd just set down a bowl for Indy when there was a knock at the door. Veronica, surprised, looked at the clock and then back to the door. Everyone she knew in the city was out of town for Christmas.

Veronica considered ignoring whomever it was, but then they knocked again. "Coming," she called out as she made her way to the door.

When she pulled the door open, Veronica she was looking into the face of the last person in the world she'd expected to grace her doorstep that evening. She instantly felt angsty. How dare  _he_ intrude on her night.

Jackass held a box in one hand, and the other hand was stuffed awkwardly in his pocket. He wore jeans and a shirt like Friday night, but something was different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it until he spoke.

"Merry Christmas," he said simply, a shy smile on his face.

What, no quip? Was this the same Jackass?

She really didn't have time for this, and he was lucky she hadn't had enough time to brainstorm any interesting ways to maim him yet. "Look," she began, "If you're selling something—"

Veronica didn't have a chance to finish because Indy came barreling through the apartment. He swept past her and into the hallway to greet their visitor.

Traitor! She looked down that the dog nuzzling her neighbor's pants, begging for attention. Veronica bent down and looked Indy in the eye. "Chihuahua," she whispered warningly.

Indy's response was immediate. He threw her a brief glance before slinking past her back into the apartment and jumping onto the couch. He turned and gave her a droopy, sad look before curling up on his end of the sofa.

Veronica chuckled a moment and then turned her attention back to the man standing at her door, not yet sure what she was going to do about him. 

"I come bearing pie." He lifted the box enticingly. "You could at least let me in."

Veronica chewed the inside of her lip, unconvinced. "What kind of pie?"

"Pecan," he said.

Her favorite! She groaned inwardly, still determined not to like him.

"Listen, about Friday night…" he began, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not holding the box. Suddenly he was looking everywhere but at her eyes. "I think I…well, I think  _I_  was the Grinch…so, truce?"

Veronica took pity on him. She wasn't immune to obnoxious outbursts from time to time. And he had pie.

"Just because it's Christmas," she sighed as she stepped aside and motioned for him to enter the apartment. When he gave her a genuine smile, she decided to play nice. "Thanks for turning the music down."

"You're welcome," he said with a smile as he stepped around her and entered the apartment. Veronica took a moment to study him as he walked over to the kitchen and set the pie box down on the counter. He wasn't bad to look at from behind…and without his jackass smirk, he really was very handsome. "Something smells good," he said, taking in a dramatically long breath.

"Thanks," she responded tentatively, still unsure what to make of him. Veronica was surprised at the transformation from just forty-eight hours ago. She realized that she didn't even know his name. "I'm Veronica, by the way," she stated, holding out her hand.

He turned around to face her, his expression almost sheepish. "Yeah, I know," he nodded. "I, um…I talked to Weevil—Eli," he corrected. He took her hand but didn't shake it; he just held it, his eyes locked with hers. "I'm Logan."

"Logan," she confirmed with a nod and immediately felt silly. Much nicer name than Jackass. Eli knew far too much about her, and she suddenly felt even more self-conscious about what Eli might have shared. "You talked to Eli, huh? That sounds…ominous."

"Not really. His grandma's worked for my parents forever. My parents…well, they're both actors, so his grandmother practically raised me."

Veronica fought the urge to facepalm when she realized just who was standing in front of her. Logan _Echolls_. Veronica had grown up watching Lynn Lester on General Hospital—back when Veronica had done such things with her own mother.

"So what are you doing here? I mean, isn't there some mansion in Bridgehampton that you should be decking the halls of about now?" she teased.

He shook his head, smirking again. But this time he wasn't smirking at her, he was smirking  _with_  her—and she liked it.

"No?" Veronica tilted her head to the side and made a big show of pondering. "Water Mill…" she ventured.

"Southampton," he admitted with a wry grin and a shake of his head. He chuckled slightly. "The house is in Southampton."

"I knew it!" Veronica gloated, raising her fist in overexaggerated victory.

"But, alas, I'm here with you tonight instead." He raised his eyebrows at her and did an awkward hand-clap motion.

"So you are," Veronica agreed, still confused. He'd apologized and brought her pie. Now what?

Logan walked over to the couch and crouched in front of Indy. Wait, was he not leaving?

"Who's a man killer?" Logan affectionately asked the pup, reaching out to scratch behind one ear.

Why wasn't he leaving?

Indy gave Veronica a quick side-eye glance. Apparently deciding that the risk of excommunication was worth attention, he rolled fully onto his back, exposing his tummy for rubs.

"That  _traitor_  is Indy," Veronica answered.

Indy's only response was two thumping flaps of his tail. Logan chuckled and scratched Indy's tummy until he found the dog's sweet spot.

Veronica eyed the nearly-empty wine rack in the corner, acutely in need of something to mellow her out. She should probably offer him something to drink since he was here and all. She wasn't used to playing hostess, and she'd put off buying good wine for tonight because who wanted to be a sad, solo-drinking cliché on Christmas? But now that she wasn't alone…

The thought brought her attention back to the food on the counter. She didn't want it to get cold. She was hungry, and Logan didn't appear to be leaving anytime soon. And then she was surprised at the realization that she didn't want him to leave. The thought of company...she'd prepared herself to be okay with spending the evening with only Indy, but now that the opportunity for companionship had presented itself, she could admit that she'd been lonely.

"Well, I was just about to eat dinner. Care to join me?" she asked him casually before she could stop herself.

Logan looked up at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Dinner?" he asked as if it wasn't seven o'clock in the evening of a major holiday.

Veronica felt herself blush crimson. Of course, he had somewhere else to be. He'd just been being nice by bringing pie. And that's when it happened—the ramble.

"No pressure. I mean, I'm used to making Christmas dinner for two, so I did...And I just thought since you were here and all…" she tried to stop the deluge, but words just kept streaming of their own accord. She wasn't even sure what was coming out at the moment "...since it's already cooked—"  _shut up, Veronica_  "...the bones are too small for Indy…"  _really, really, stop_  "...no one else..." Oh, god, it was just getting worse and worse. She forced her mouth to pause.

"So, basically since you can't feed the food to your dog, and it has to get eaten and no one else is here to do so I'm invited?" he summarized.

Veronica had to think for a moment. While that certainly hadn't been her intent, it was probably about the gist of what she'd said.  _Crap_. "Essentially," she admitted.

"Well, in that case, I accept," he said, standing up straight.

"Really?" She inwardly groaned at the surprise she heard in her own voice. She'd been so sure he would refuse. Now that he hadn't, she regretted her hasty decision to let him interrupt her solitude. Logan must have sensed her hesitation.

"Unless it's too much trouble." Logan pointed a thumb toward his own apartment. "I can…"

Shame washed over her. She didn't know why she was wavering. She couldn't have it both ways—sulking alone  _and_  having company at the same time wasn't an option. And there was no shame in allowing herself a little happiness during Christmas. It's what her dad would want.

"No trouble at all," she insisted, scurrying back to the kitchen to grab a placemat, plate, napkin and some utensils for them. Why did this guy make her feel so…much? If she wasn't screaming at him in the hallway, she was inviting him to eat her extra game hen. No doubt they'd argue and she'd kick him out before they got to his pie, anyway.

She rounded the corner, her arms full, and he immediately took the load from her. "You seem really into Christmas dinner," he commented as he set his own place. "My family always makes things so ornately overdone that it's not even—I dunno...special anymore." He paused for a moment, his mood darkening for a moment before he recovered. "This is...nice," he finished simply.

"Thanks," she responded. "Ever since high school, it was up to me to make Christmas dinner, so I kind of developed the knack of it. It's not too fancy, but it's good." She didn't want to get into discussing her family traditions.

Logan nodded, apparently needing no further explanation. That worried her. She'd already shared more than she usually did. Part of her wanted to know what Weevil had told him—the real reason he was here. She didn't dare ask him. Not yet at least.

"I don't need fancy," he responded quietly. Veronica watched as he took in the table. She remembered the candles that were unlit since she'd planned on eating on the couch and retrieved a match to light them. She had to admit that the table didn't look too shabby for a last minute set up.

"Do you have any wine?" he asked.

Veronica grimaced, she'd considered stopping by Wine Emporium on her way home from work yesterday, but hadn't. "No," she admitted. "I only have reds, and I don't think they'll pair well."

Logan surprised her by standing up and crossing the apartment. "I've got a Zinfandel that will be perfect. Be right back," he called out over his shoulder, flipping the security lock over as he left her apartment so the door wouldn't close fully behind him.

Left alone for a moment, Veronica began to, again, second—or was it third—guess her decision to let him stay. He was a stranger, and not a pleasant one at that. But there was something about him…

"Got it," he called out as he strode confidently through the front door, gracefully setting the bottle down on the table. "Where do you keep the glasses?" he inquired, his tone light as if he spent evenings in her apartment frequently.

Veronica didn't have time to answer. Logan walked into her kitchen and opened the correct cabinet on his first try. "Funny, that's where I keep mine too," he announced. Veronica was in awe of him—the way he took over. She should feel uncomfortable...she should, but she didn't.

She found herself smiling as he placed a glass in front of her on the table. He produced a device from his pocket and deftly uncorked the bottle. "My friends own this winery," he explained as he poured her an ample amount and then filled his own, "It's the best."

He sat down and looked at her. She had no idea what he saw that gave him pause, but he hesitated. "Is this okay?" he asked, suddenly unsure of himself.

Uncertainty seemed wrong on his face, she decided. She instantly missed the confident guy from a moment ago—even the one who had told her off the other night.

"No," she quickly reassured him, "this is nice."

He quietly nodded busied himself serving them both potatoes and other side dishes.

"So, Veronica," he asked, "tell me about yourself."

Veronica stifled her instant response to clam up. Maybe Weevil didn't tell him as much as she'd thought. "I'm from California," she began. At his nod, she continued. "A seedy beach town," she expounded.

"How did you end up in New York?" he asked, popping a mouthful of sweet potatoes into his mouth. "This is amazing!" he moaned, closing his eyes for a moment.

She smiled. It was the same reaction her dad always had to her Sweet Potatoes Anna. "Thanks. I actually don't love sweet potatoes, but…" she paused, surprised again by how forthcoming she was being.

"Your dad…" he surmised.

Clearly, Eli had a big mouth.

"Yeah," she responded, the food in her mouth suddenly tasting like cardboard.

"Tell me about him," Logan prompted.

Veronica gasped slightly and looked up to meet his eyes. He knew, then. The warmth in his eyes spurned her on. "My dad is...was...amazing. He was the sheriff—had been since I was little." Veronica shook the sadness out of her head.

Logan seemed to understand. "Must be a hard job," he mused. Veronica looked up to find him studying her, his wine glass near his lips. "Sheriff, I mean. It's elected," he explained. "You have to keep everyone happy."

Veronica nodded.

"My parents wined and dined the sheriff. Came in...handy."

Veronica watched as his features darkened slightly, she didn't like it. She found herself wanting to get the carefree Logan back once again.

"It's not all bad. I mean, we did love the Padres opening day tickets that were  _anonymously_  delivered every year," she smiled. "What about you?" she asked, picking up her own wine glass.

He smiled. "What about me?"

"What's your story? What are you doing in Washington Heights when you could be on Park Avenue?"

He smiled at that, a genuine smile, and Veronica found herself melting. She wanted him to smile like that all the time.

"I mean other than the obvious," she added, pointedly.

His eyes narrowed playfully. "What's the obvious?"

"Well, your first motive was clearly to drive me out of house and home with obnoxious and incessant noise," she teased, looking away from him to cut into her hen.

He laughed out loud, bringing her attention back to his face. His eyes were now bright with mirth. That was better.

"You can't blame a guy for trying to get noticed by the cute blonde next door," he countered.

"Well, in that case, it's no wonder you're still single," she scoffed. Then she leaned forward as if to tell him a secret. "For the record, if you're trying to get a girl's attention, yelling at her and slamming the door in her face probably isn't your best bet."

Logan's eyes went wide with shock. "So that's what I've been doing wrong!" He laughed heartily. "I wish you'd been around years ago and saved me all this trouble."

Veronica laughed too. They ate in silence for a few moments and then Logan spoke up.

"Park Avenue isn't really my scene anymore. I graduated from Brown and spent a few months traveling. Now I've landed my first  _adult_  job, and Park Avenue doesn't exactly fit into my budget. I know Weevil—Eli—and this just seemed right."

So he was setting out on his own, she realized. Separating himself from his parents. She could respect that.

"Me too!" she agreed. "My dad knows Eli's cousin, so that's how we found this place when I came out to Columbia," she explained.

Logan raised his eyebrows. "All part of the plan to get your attention."

"Well, I don't deny that you got my attention. I just question your charm and finesse."

"My charm and finesse aren't the problem," Logan countered.

"Well then, what is?" she asked. She looked down and realized that she'd finished more than half of her food without realizing it.

"Bad timing," he responded, bringing the wine glass up to his lips and finishing it off. Then he reached out and picked up the bottle, pouring himself another half-glass and then topping her off. "I really  _am_  sorry about that." He paused for a moment. "I was drowning out my Christmas blues with music rather than booze," he admitted. "It seemed like a move in the right direction at the time…"

"Before Christmas music, it was just bad garage music," she pointed out.

The look of horror that crossed his face was priceless. "That's my friend Dick's band," he insisted. "He was helping me move in and we were listening to demos."

"Well, your friend Dick's band sucks!"

"They booked a bar mitzvah," Logan shrugged.

"Mazel tov!" Veronica stated, lifting her glass in a toast.

Logan laughed. "You're terrible."

"No,  _the music_  is terrible," she corrected.

"I'm being supportive!"

"Just when I'd thought the terrible  _Dick_  music had stopped, you started up with even worse Christmas music."

Logan pushed his empty plate aside and leaned back in his chair. "It was my mom's favorite."

Veronica felt a knot form in her throat. Oops. She must have turned green because it appeared that Logan took pity on her.

"I don't know if she really liked  _that song_ , but she was a huge Beatles fan." When Logan paused, Veronica racked her brain for anything she knew about Lynn Lester. It wasn't much. Veronica didn't follow Hollywood gossip. Beyond General Hospital, she hadn't known much about the actress except that she'd died very publically back when Veronica was in high school. "My dad hated it, so we used to sing it in the car when I was little. When we were in LA for Christmas, she'd drive around in the convertible singing at the top her lungs for all to hear." Logan laughed, lost in thought. "Sometimes we'd even do it when we were out here for Christmas and nearly freeze to death." He chuckled and fiddled with the stem of his wine glass. "It was kind of our thing."

"Sorry," Veronica said, "I didn't know."

"No, you couldn't have." Logan shook his head. "That night my dad had called, and...well, it doesn't matter; I shouldn't have been blaring it in the apartment late at night," he acknowledged. He blinked and looked at Veronica with eyes that seemed too old for his years. "Forgive me?" he asked.

As if she could do anything else with him looking at her—through her—the way he was. But she couldn't say that. "Well, you did bring me pie," she deflected.

"Pie!" he remembered. "It's good too!" he promised. "Weevil's grandma's famous pecan pie."

"Why do you call him Weevil?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered, thinking hard. "I didn't when we were little, but it started in high school or junior high." Logan shrugged, coming up with no good answer. "We went to school together, but were in...different circles," Logan finished.

Veronica understood that all too well, having attended Neptune High School. Maybe they had more in common than she'd first realized—maybe they were different sides of the same coin. "Ready for pie?" she asked.

Still lounging back in his chair, Logan patted his stomach. "I think I need another minute," he said and then leaned forward to set his empty wine glass on the table before settling back again.

Veronica was left with nothing to say, so she busied herself collecting the dishes. Indy got up from the couch and trotted into the kitchen after her, eager for leftovers. Veronica cleared away the bones and then laid the plates on the floor for him to lap up the rest of the meat.

She made her way back to the main room to find Logan where she'd left him. She leaned over the table to blow out the candles and noticed that his eyes followed her chest as she did so. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater, so she was sure she wasn't giving him a show, but she was a little self-conscious all the same. And tingly. By the time she stood back straight, Logan's eyes were on hers again, seemingly innocent. She held back a snicker.

Logan made a big show of looking around her apartment.

"I'm pretty sure it's the same layout as yours," she teased.

"Yes, it's the reverse, but I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking that you need some decorations," he said.

Veronica had thought the same thing several times today. "I wasn't in the mood for a big Christmas this year," she said. At his silence, she continued. "I'd always gone home for Christmas, so I didn't have much here. Then when...well, the apartment's small. I put all the decorations in storage in California." Veronica worked hard to keep her voice steady. Maybe one day she'd be ready to go through all her dad's stuff, but she hadn't been at the time.

"I understand," Logan's voice cut through her sadness. "I'm just now getting around to bringing my mom's stuff out of storage," he said as if reading her mind.

And there reality was, sad and ever-present. "Enough" she decided. He looked up at her and she realized she'd said the words out loud. "No more ghosts of Christmas past," she stated firmly.

He gave her a small smile and stood up from the chair. "Good idea," he agreed.

"I'm going to get that pie," she stated, crossing to the kitchen. "And then I'm going to watch The Year Without Santa Claus. You in?" she asked him, peeking over her shoulder at him. She hadn't expected to say that. She hadn't expected to  _do_  that—watch that movie. Especially not with him. Yes, it was tradition, but she knew she'd have chickend out in favor of holiday rom-com. She couldn't believe what she'd just said. It bothered her.

But Logan just nodded, not giving her a chance to take the words back. "Sounds great," he said. He was quiet for a moment and then crossed to her front door again. "But first, I have an idea," he said, disappearing into the hallway with the door propped open once again. "Be right back," he called to her.

Veronica shook her head, curious, hoping he didn't come back with more food. She was stuffed. Veronica concentrated on cutting the pie perfectly. The first piece came out an absolute mess, but the second was perfect.

She was contemplating cutting a third and hiding the first mess when she heard a shuffle at the door. She put down the knife and fork and was surprised to see the top of a Douglas Fir pushing through her doorway. "A little help would be appreciated," Logan's voice called from out in the hallway.

Veronica laughed, holding the door open wide and grabbing the tree top. The tree had lights on it and became wedged in the doorway. "I think you're supposed to back it in from the bottom," she called out.

"Yeah, I forgot about the part where it was all wrapped up when I brought it home," he laughed. "I already dumped water all over the floor out here," he called.

"Just pull it back through," she laughed.

"No, it was a romantic gesture, and I've committed now!" he laughed. "Pull hard!"

Veronica found herself laughing too. "I am!"

Finally, Logan adjusted the angle and with a loud  _crack_ , the tree came bursting through the door. Veronica landed hard on her butt, the tree still in her arms.

"Sorry!" Logan uttered, lifting the tree off of her. "Seemed like a good idea at the time." He set the tree up properly and then held his hand down to her, obviously trying not to laugh.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" she warned.

"I wouldn't dare!" he responded, pulling her to her feet. "I'm laughing at myself. I keep messing things up."

Veronica found herself laughing right along with him. It felt good. When she was back on her feet, Veronica surveyed the tree. One large branch was hanging by a thread after breaking in the doorway.

"Oops!" Logan laughed.

"Guess that side's going in the back!" she chuckled, moving to a corner to push a small bookcase to one side, making room for the tree.

Logan pushed the tree into place and plugged the lights in before they both stepped back to look at the tree. It wasn't bad from this angle. Suddenly she felt shy.

"Not too shabby, Echolls," she told him. The tree was bare except for the lights. "Now I wish I'd brought back the ornaments," she admitted softly.

"I only have one. A butterfly. It was my mom's favorite," he said distractedly, pointing to the lone ornament on the tree. It was made of metal, but Veronica was surprised it had survived the delivery.

Logan turned in a slow circle and then, his eye catching something, he bent over to pick up a frame from the bookcase she'd just moved. Veronica saw what he grabbed, a small picture of her dad and Indy. He placed it on a strong branch and then stepped back again, nodding in appreciation. "That's better," he said, stepping back to her side. "No ghosts of Christmas past," he clarified, "memories of better times that you can keep with you as you create new traditions."

Veronica fought tears, but they were happy ones. Her body leaned slightly into his side of its own accord.

"Thank you! But you have to take your mom's ornament back," she insisted.

Logan stiffened slightly and then relaxed, throwing an arm over her shoulder and accepting her weight. "No rush," he told her. "I know where you live."

It was the first physical contact Veronica had had in too long. Sure, her friends hugged her in greeting, but standing here in her apartment on Christmas day with Logan's arm around her was...intimate. And she liked it.

After a moment, the connection became awkward and she moved out of his embrace, murmuring something about pie that even she didn't understand. She made her way back to the kitchen, remembering that she did have whipped cream from the time Mac and Wallace and she had made Snowplows one snowy night just before Logan had moved in.

She snuck a quick glance at Logan, who was now looking at the rest of the pictures on the bookshelf, and then stuck the messy piece of pie into the fridge as she grabbed the whipped cream. He'd been so impressed with her multiple-course dinner that she didn't want to shatter the illusion just yet.

Happy with the perfect slices of pie topped with homemade whipped cream, Veronica placed a fork on each plate and made her way out to her guest.

"If this tastes half as good as it looks, we'll be going back for seconds," she said with a smile as she handed him one plate and sat down on the other side of Indy.

"So what's this movie we're watching?" There was speculation in his voice.

"The Year Without Santa Claus?"

He shook his head. "Never heard of it."

"No way!" she blurted. "It's one of those claymation classics..." she prompted.

Logan scratched his chin, appearing to be tapping into a memory. Veronica waited.

"I think I once saw Rudolph's Shiny New Year..." he ventured.

Veronica shivered in distaste and felt her eyebrows rise in horror. Logan only laughed. "Seriously? That's not even remotely close."

"Then, by all means, enlighten me," Logan said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the back of the couch.

"Prepare yourself for greatness, Logan Echolls," Veronica couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. Her bravado faded a bit when she queued up the video from the DVR. She hesitated. She hadn't really thought about it until now, but The Year Without Santa Claus was a bit...well, now that she thought about it, it wasn't actually that great at all. And she'd just built it up.

Veronica turned and saw Logan pause, his fork halfway to his mouth. "What?" he asked innocently.

Part of her wanted to warn him, but then she just shrugged. He was just her neighbor. They weren't friends or anything. And he'd been a jerk. She smiled slyly as she hit the 'play' button. He'd survive; the movie wasn't even an hour long.

 

* * *

 

Veronica felt a little self-conscious as she reached for the remote and paused the DVR when the credits began to roll. She cautiously threw a look in Logan's direction, silently willing him to not mock her Christmas tradition.

"How did I not know about this as a child?" he asked incredulously. "I would have loved it."

Veronica felt the tension ease from her shoulders. "I don't know. I don't even know what made my dad watch it, but he loved it." Veronica smiled, momentarily lost in memory. Then she remembered she wasn't alone. "I was hoping you wouldn't think it was too corny."

"My nannies were always trying to keep me entertained. And chase my father. I'm shocked they didn't park me in front of this movie starting just after Thanksgiving." He seemed momentarily lost as well.

Veronica wasn't sure what to do next. It wasn't late enough to kick him out under the guise of going to bed, but she didn't have much else planned for the night.

"If you want corny, you should hear my plans for the evening," Logan said. Suddenly looking sheepish, he was fiddling with Indy's collar. The dog had stayed between them throughout the movie, only moving occasionally to adjust Logan's petting hand to a new location.

Veronica was intrigued. "I am all about Christmas corny," she assured him.

"I was going to watch Riverside Yuletide."

"I've never heard of it," Veronica admitted.

"It's my mom's movie." Logan readjusted, turning slightly to look at her. "Lifetime Christmas movies weren't a thing so much in the '90s, but my mom made a silly made-for-TV movie back then with some Mel Gibson wannabe. It's the cheesiest thing ever. Not her best work. She wouldn't even watch it when it was on TV that year."

He paused for a moment, and Veronica gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

"After she died, one of her director friends asked what he could do, and a few years ago I remembered the movie and called him up to track me down a copy. I watched it that year and last year…" he shrugged. "I guess now it's a tradition."

"Well, go get it!" Veronica couldn't help but say. "I already cleaned out the Hallmark app's supply."

She stopped when he began playing with Indy's collar again. He hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was low. "I've never watched it with anyone else before."

It took a moment for the weight of his words to kick in. "Oh!" she sat up straight and leaned over the dog to look at him. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I've taken up your night. If you want to go—"

"No!" he interrupted. "It's not like that." He covered her hand, now resting on Indy's rotund tummy, with his own. "I was hesitating because...well, sometimes it makes me cry."

"All Christmas movies make people cry, silly," she reassured him. "It's like their entire purpose for being. Fifty-three people have watched  _A Prince for Christmas_  every day since they released it."

He looked skeptical.

"The _same_  fifty-three people, Logan... _every day_. The numbers don't lie. That's telling you something. And all fifty-three probably cry every time."

That made him chuckle a little.

"What's it about?" she prompted.

"Riverside Yuletide?" he asked. She nodded and he continued. "The guy—the Mel Gibson doppelganger guy—is off fighting in some war—"

"Which war?" she interrupted.

"How should I know?" he playfully questioned, looking heavenward. "It was the '90s."

"The Gulf War?" she surmised, eyebrows up.

He laughed hard this time. "I don't know. Why does it matter."

She shrugged, not really knowing why it mattered or if it did at all. "I'm trying to set the scene," she explained.

"Okay, fine then, we'll say it's the Gulf War," Logan said with a chuckle and a flip of his hands. He looked as though he were waiting for Veronica to interrupt again. "Still good so far?" he teased.

Veronica made a motion of zipping her mouth shut and nodded. She raised her eyebrows again so he would continue.

"So anyways, as I was saying," he threw her a pointed, yet amused, look, "he's away at war and he's dreaming of a home-cooked meal. And he's reading this article a woman—my mom—wrote about her plan for the perfect home cooked meal for her family in some magazine."

Veronica made a move to speak, but he stopped her.

"I don't know which magazine!" he preempted, his eyebrows furrowed in mock annoyance.

"Ha! I hadn't even been about to ask that," she gloated. Well, maybe she had been. But he didn't need to know that. She re-zipped her lips.

"And when he comes home, they interview him on the news, and he says that what kept him going through the  _Gulf_  war was this article that he'd kept with him." Logan stopped for a moment and smiled absently. "So the magazine hears this and sends him to the woman's house for Christmas. But she—my mom's character—is a fraud. She lives in a tiny apartment in—

"Riverside," Veronica speculated.

Logan rolled his eyes but continued as if she hadn't interrupted. "—Riverside. She doesn't have a family, and she doesn't even know how to cook. So she has to stage it all in a hurry."

"And hilarity ensues?"

He nodded at her. "Cheesy, '90s-brand hilarity ensues," he agreed with a twinkling smile.

"Did you unpack it yet?" she asked.

"The movie?" he asked and then nodded.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She shot him a toothy smile that she hoped looked as sincere as it was. "I must watch this '90's-brand cheese! I can't believe you've made me wait this long."

He seemed reluctant for about two more seconds before he relented. As he retreated out the door, he flipped the latch over again so he could return. To her amusement, Indy followed Logan out into the hall.

Logan couldn't be that bad if he got the Indy stamp of approval, she decided as she stood up to refill the dog's dish.

Logan reappeared a moment later, Indy at his heels, handed her the plain DVD with "Lynn" written on the top in Sharpie and sat down where he'd been on the couch. She popped it into the DVD player and grabbed the remote again to start it before flopping onto the couch next to him, while Indy munched happily from the kitchen.

"If you laugh when I cry, I'll be ruined for life," he informed her.

"You've known me all of three hours. What does it matter what I think?" she countered.

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know...but somehow it does."

Veronica didn't want to think too much about his words. She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table and pressed 'play'.

 

* * *

 

"That was hilarious!" Veronica announced when the movie was over.

"Hilariously terrible?" he speculated.

"Why has nobody seen this movie?" she asked.

"Um...because it sucks?" he offered.

"A bit outdated, sure, but it was funny." Veronica shrugged. "When he goes to change the baby's diaper and she screams because she remembers she borrowed the neighbor's baby who is actually a boy not a girl made me snort."

"Yes, that was super ladylike," he admitted.

"Good thing being ladylike isn't high on my life's goals," she shrugged.

"Clearly!" he laughed, reaching out to touch her shoulder. He must have realized what he'd done because he pulled away quickly. Too quickly.

She'd liked it. But now there was a moment of awkwardness. She didn't want to dwell on the movie either though, so she decided to go another direction.

"You up for more pie?"

Logan lit up at that. "It's like you read my mind!"

Veronica hopped up and began rummaging through her cupboards. "It'll just take a sec," she called out. "I'm going to have to wash some plates."

She jumped a little bit when Logan seemingly appeared beside her. "I don't need a plate...just grab some forks!"

Now it was Veronica's time to beam. "A man after my own heart," she announced before she thought the better of it. Her cheeks burned red and she felt warm all over. Open mouth, insert foot.

Logan gave her a long look but thankfully let it go. He opened the fridge and stole her whipped cream and two forks. "Right where I keep them!" he exclaimed when he opened the correct drawer on the first try. "Grab the pie," he called over his shoulder as he returned to the couch.

When she returned to the sofa with leftover pie in hand—minus the ugly piece she'd hidden—she got a warm, fuzzy feeling. Butterflies. She got butterflies just from looking at him. And it was crazy because she'd just met this guy, but...wow.

He was anything but the jackass she'd met two days before; his eyes were warm and inviting, his demeanor too. Veronica didn't know how to proceed, how to respond. These feelings she was having... She always kept people at arm's length, careful not to get hurt. But, could he...could Logan...there was something about him that made her want to—

"Everything okay?"

His silky smooth voice cut through her woolgathering and a shiver ran down her spine. She shook her head to gather her wits. It was much too early to be thinking this deeply into anything.

"Nothing! I was just contemplating if you'd judge me when you realized I stashed one piece in the fridge for breakfast," she lied.

"This pie is great. I'd be offended if you didn't," he replied evenly, his eyebrows raised sincerely.

How could this guy be both Jackass and Logan? It was incomprehensible to her.

Veronica avoided his gaze as she sat down on the sofa next to him and turned slightly so they'd both have access to the pie. It was then that she saw the fork he held out to her, and she took it with a blush and a smile.

She laughed out loud when he clinked his fork against hers in a goofy toast, and then they both dug in. Neither of them spoke for several moments as they indulged. But she caught his eye several times, and each time she did, she found him studying her the way she'd done him earlier. It made her shiver again, despite her efforts not to. His gaze was intense, though she knew it wasn't his intention to make her uncomfortable. Veronica mentally scrambled for something to say to break the silence.

Indy did the job for her. He came over and rubbed his wet nose against her arm and then ran over to do a pretty sit by the hook that held his leash. Poor, Indy, she'd neglected him. He hadn't been out in hours.

"I really should take him out," Veronica said, but she didn't move. She couldn't just leave this virtual stranger in her apartment, but she couldn't ask him to leave either, could she? Luckily, he spoke up before she had to decide.

"Want some company?" he asked almost shyly. His eyes left hers for the first time in so long. "For protection, I mean," he explained sheepishly.

Veronica cocked her head to the side and pretended to consider this and he slowly met her gaze again. "I think I'll stick with the pitbull for protection," she teased.

Logan's cheeks colored and he looked down again. "That's fine, I, uh…"

Veronica crossed over to the door, unhooked Indy's leash, and then turned back to him. "But as far as company goes..." she teased, "I'll take the not-so-jackass from down the hall."

His eyes met hers again, and he stood and made his way over to her. "The old guy in 4A?" he speculated, one brow raised as he nodded his head in the direction of 4A.

Suddenly unable to speak, Veronica just shook her head no.

And then he smiled as he stood up and made his way toward her. A genuine, full smile that reached all the way up to his eyes.

She liked that smile, and something inside her knew that it was rare. She was drunk off good food, wine, and pie, so she spoke her thoughts.

"You should smile more!" she said.

That made him squirm again, but the smile stayed in place, along with those smoldering eyes that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

He shrugged. "Maybe I just needed a reason to smile."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she bent over to latch Indy's leash to his collar and then ducked past Logan to open the coat closet just behind him. As she retrieved her coat, gloves, and boots, Logan opened her front door. Then they walked silently together to his apartment so he could get his own winter wear.

Once they were all bundled up, Logan motioned for Veronica to proceed him and then they wound their way down the maze of too-narrow and somewhat-sloped stairs to the first floor. She could see people through the set of doors that lead outside and groaned inwardly. The last thing she needed was chaos outside her door on Christmas day because Indy couldn't wait.

Veronica opened the inner door and paused a moment inside her building's vestibule, bracing herself for the blast of cold air she knew awaited her. She tucked her chin in a bit and raised her shoulders to burrow herself a little farther into her scarf, and then, with a deep breath, she threw open the outer door. The blast of icy wind she'd been anticipating penetrated right through all of her layers and instantly chilled her to the bone. But the crowd—the crowd she'd dreaded pushing through—warmed her heart.

_Silent night,_

_Holy night_

_All is calm,_

_All is bright..._

They were caroling. They were a group of singers—maybe a dozen or so—who were clearly a hodgepodge that had been collected over several blocks as people joined in. Amidst the hustle and bustle, this rag-tag group of men and women—some more on-key than others—was huddled together sharing Christmas joy. It was magical.

"Isn't it amazing how Manhattan can surprise you?" a calm voice spoke from just behind her. The warmth of his breath tickled her cold cheek. He'd taken the words right out of her mouth.

And in that moment, on that cold sidewalk outside her door, Veronica leaned back into Logan a little just to listen. Her breath caught when his hand settled on her waist and held her close.

When the song began to wind down, Veronica turned her face up to his and nodded. "New Yorkers never cease to surprise me." She paused for a moment and then turned toward him. He was but a breath away. The song ended and the group fell silent for a split second before they began to talk about what they should sing next.

"And that song is so apropos because when I returned from the last walk with Indy, all I wanted was a silent night, and—" she smiled at him.

"And then I barged in and ruined your plans...again," he finished for her.

"Luckily, I'm adaptable to whatever life throws at me," she smiled.

"'Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans,'" he quoted, suddenly removing his hand from her side and placing both his in his back pockets.

"John Lennon said that," Veronica said knowingly.

Logan raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. "My favorite Beatle," he said, though Veronica doubted it was true.

"Somehow I doubt that," Veronica said, unable to keep the smile from stretching across her lips. She turned to the group. "Do you take requests?"

"Yes,  _please_ ," one of the carolers called out. "Anything we know!"

"My friend here," Veronica paused and pointed dramatically at Logan like she was a model on  _The Price is Right_ , "absolutely  _loves_  Paul McCartney. Do you know Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time," she asked.

Several members of the group piped up that they knew it, and soon the song was in full swing.

"This is just  _wrong,_ " he stated emphatically.

"Do tell," she flirted, turning to give him her full attention.

His eyebrows were so high they almost touched his hairline, and his eyes were wide. "It's late—it's like past eleven. You should be furious. All this racket. The neighbors might have other plans!" he teased throwing his arms wide to indicate the buildings around them. "It's shitty Christmas music, too," he goaded further. "Add in some slamming doors and this is like your worst nightmare."

Veronica gave him a long hard look. It had been a long time since she'd been around someone who challenged her the way Logan did.

"I mean it's—" he began.

"—so wrong it's right?" she finished.

"Exactly," he said, another genuine smile stretched across his face.

Not knowing what to say, Veronica just turned back to the carolers and allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

After the song finished, the carolers, with a wave, continued on down Cabrini Boulevard before disappearing out of sight down W. 181st, singing O, Come All Ye Faithful as they went. Suddenly the streets were quiet—or as quiet as they could be in Manhattan. It was late on Christmas, and light flurries flitted about in the air in no hurry to reach the ground. Everyone who had sense, and no dog to walk, was tucked away for the evening.

Luckily for Veronica, Indy had had enough cold, outdoor time, and was ready to head back in in no time at all. Logan took the leash from her and beckoned her ahead of himself once again as they ascended the squeaky, hardwood staircase.

Veronica, unaccustomed to situations like this, men in her apartment, didn't pause when she reached his door and continued on to her own just one door down. When she arrived, she felt his hand on her arm and turned toward him.

"It's late," he stated as he threw in an exaggerated yawn for good measure. "I know you like your silence."

Veronica couldn't contain her eye roll. But, before she could object, or even decide if she wanted to, Logan dropped down onto one knee and gave Indy a good scratching across his wide nose and forehead. When Logan stood up, he hesitated as if he wanted to say something else but then didn't. They just stood there, outside her apartment door, in an awkward silence.

Suddenly overheated in her layers now that she was in the warmth of her hallway, Veronica pulled off her gloves and hat, momentarily forgetting the state of static array that she'd be in after doing so.

Logan's smirk made her self-conscious. She groaned in frustrated embarrassment as she tried to set herself to rights. He halted her hands when he reached out and brushed some hair off of her forehead.

The moment was too much. Too intimate, too quickly. Veronica needed space. Time to think. Time to...breathe. But she couldn't leave things on this odd note. And she wanted to know when she'd see him again.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" she asked him.

"Not tomorrow," he responded, his hands now tucked back in his pockets where she liked them. She felt safer that way. Safer from her own emotions. "I'm headed out to Long Island, though." Logan moved his hands again, fidgeting with the bottom button of his coat. "I've got some...loose ends to tie up, so you'll have a few days of peace and quiet," he assured her.

"I've recently come to the conclusion that peace and quiet is overrated," she informed him.

"Really?" he questioned skeptically. "I have a hard time believing that."

Veronica just shrugged in response and then turned to unlock her door. "Well,  _neighbor_ ," she said. "Assuming you have no fish that need to be fed or plants that need to be watered in your absence, I guess this is goodnight."

"My only plant is currently sitting in your living room," Logan chuckled. "So please take good care of it."

Veronica nodded sharply. "It'll be well watered until you come back to drag it down to the curb and then vacuum up all the needles."

"I'll be back before New Years'," he promised her, turning back and walking to his apartment. "I'll give you a knock." He looked back at her and smirked as he shrugged. "Or just slam the door a few times or something."

Veronica chuckled. "Sounds nice," she replied, opening her door and shoving Indy inside.

She watched curiously as Logan dug into his pocket. He produced his phone and quickly unlocked it with his thumb. With a sheepish, almost shy, expression, he handed it to her without quite meeting her eyes.

"Or I could," he paused and then his eyes met hers, "just text you?" He said the last cautiously, as if he weren't sure of himself.

Veronica's heart did a little stutter-step, but she managed to give him a reassuring smile as she took the phone from him. He'd pulled up a blank contact and she quickly pulled off her gloves and tucked them under her arm so she could type in her information. 

Then it was her turn to be shy. She willed her hands not to shake as she handed it back to him, but she failed. Hopefully he hadn't noticed.

"Goodnight, Veronica," Logan said simply as turned and walked back to his door, unlocked it and pushed it open.

"Goodnight, Logan," she replied. "Thanks for the pie." Ready to end the night so she could sit down and over-analyze the events of the evening ad nauseam, Veronica crossed the threshold.

"Hey, Veronica," Logan's voice called from back in the hallway. Unable to help herself, Veronica popped her head back into the hall.

"Tonight...could have been...bad. But you...well, being with you…" Logan struggled for words, which Veronica suspected was a rarity for him.

"Me too," Veronica responded, understanding all too well what he meant.

He offered her a wan smile, said goodnight again, and disappeared into his apartment. Veronica smiled when she heard his door click softly shut.

She immediately wiped off Indy's paws and placed her boots on the little carpet square she'd put in her hall closet for wet shoes. As she crossed through her apartment, she spied her unfinished wine glass on the coffee table and retrieved it. Not ready to turn in for the night, she crossed the apartment to the window. She stood there for several minutes, just watching the snow slowly envelop her city in a thin layer of white.

A twinkling of light out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned to see the light reflecting off of something metal on the tree. Logan's butterfly. Lynn's butterfly. She should return it to him. She couldn't believe he'd brought it over in the first place. But as she approached the tree, the sight of her dad's frame next to Logan's mom's butterfly gave her a sense of contentment. It was almost as if it was all meant to happen. She hadn't thought she believed in such things, but, she supposed, anything was possible.

"Goodnight, Dad," she said in the direction of the tree as she crossed to her room to change into pajamas.

Tonight she'd more than survived her first Christmas without her dad. She'd enjoyed it. Logan had been right. The night could have been many things, but because of Logan, it had been full of hope. And now she wanted more. And hoped he did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, Marshmallows!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and reads! 
> 
> The movie that I based Lynn's after is Christmas in Connecticut...a classic movie that's a favorite of in my family...just in case you want to check it out.


End file.
